


Direct Action

by Owlix



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Drunken Flirting, Intoxication, Kissing, M/M, Philosophy, Politics, Post-Dark Cybertron
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-05
Updated: 2014-05-05
Packaged: 2018-01-22 01:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1571861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlix/pseuds/Owlix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been a long time since they stayed up late together, drinking and discussing political philosophy and the depths of each others' feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Direct Action

 

“I was wrong, Orion.”

“It’s Optimus now,” Optimus said gently. “I’m not Orion any more.

Megatron reached for his face, thumb clumsily pressing against Optimus’ mask. “No. What they haven’t taken, I’ve stripped of myself. I have nothing left, Orion. Nothing. Don’t take this too. Not tonight.”

Megatron was drunk. Optimus wasn’t quite sober himself, but…

“All right,” Optimus said. For tonight, anyway, it wouldn’t matter. Tomorrow things would be different. Tomorrow Optimus would have a job to do. Tomorrow they would face the full weight of everything between them. But tonight...

“Listen, Orion,” Megatron said. His hand stayed on Optimus’ face like it belonged there. It had, once. “I was wrong. In that cell I thought I had been enlightened. I thought I’d come to know some complete and important truth: that action needs to follow words.”

Megatron’s optics were gleaming. His body was close and warm with the side-effects of engex, his electromagnetic field interfering with Optimus’ circuitry in a way that was overwhelmingly familiar.

“Actions do need to follow words,” Optimus said behind his mask. Megatron shuddered with the vibration of his voice against his hand. His thumb pressed harder, running along the mask’s edge, the motion clumsy but familiar.

“Yes,” Megatron said. “Action, Orion. But I was wrong. I defined action as violence.”

The words hung there between them.

“I was surrounded by violence. By force. Down in the mines, imposing our will on each other, on the very earth. The will of others imposed on us. Force, Orion. It was all I knew then.” He laughed. “It’s nearly all I still know, now.”

“Not an excuse,” Optimus said.

Megatron smiled sadly. “No,” he agreed. “No excuses. Not any more. Not for either of us. I was wrong, Orion.”

Optimus had never thought that he would hear those words from him. Not spoken like this, sincere and guileless. The way Megatron recited his own poetry.

“I had thought violence and action were the same,” Megatron said. “That all nonviolent action was impotent. Meaningless. But I was wrong. There are other ways to act.”

He leaned forward, hand sliding away from Optimus’ face and coming to rest on his windshield. The steady press of his familiar weight made Optimus’ frame shift.

“Megatron. You’re intoxicated.”

Optimus put a hand on Megatron’s chassis, attempting to steady him, perhaps to hold him back. It only increased the feeling of familiar resonance between the two of them - heat and thick fuzzy electromagnetic interference and the humming vibration of their engines.

“I know what I’m doing, Orion,” Megatron said, and it was easy to believe him. He leaned closer, until Optimus could feel him exhale. His hand found Optimus’ mask again, thumb pressing steadily against unfeeling metal.

The mask abruptly slid back, surprising both of them. Megatron’s thumb touched his face, a steady tender press at one corner of his mouth.

Megatron leaned closer still, lips parting. Optimus didn’t pull away.

Actions followed words.


End file.
